I'm sure some sage has written wise words correlating adversity with opportunity and growth. And you would be well within your rights to ask why I'm bringing this up in a post that's ostensibly a recipe for strawberry sorbet, and the answer is this: When Dave developed lactose intolerance in his early 40s we were devastated. As I wrote at the time:

It was a very bad day. One of those days that forever changes you. A day that delineates a definite "Before" and "After." The life-altering occurrence? My husband found out he was lactose intolerant. And, no, not just the "take a Lactaid pill and have some cheesecake anyway" kind of lactose intolerant, but the kind where it's inadvisable to partake of butter, fresh cheeses or any product containing milk without risking...ahem...shall we say "explosive repercussions."

As Joni Mitchell wrote: "You don't know what you've got till it's gone."

It led to a complete rethinking of our very profligate and, frankly, thoughtless use of dairy in everything from our morning toast to creamy casseroles to buttery pastries and desserts. Store shelves today proudly proclaim their products to be "dairy free" and "vegan," with lactose-free butter, milk and cheeses in stock almost everywhere. Even restaurant menus now offer dairy-free options and label entrées "DF" or "V," but thirty years ago it meant switching to margarine and tofu-based simulacra of our beloved dairy products.

And you could pretty much rule out a romantic date night—the machinations involved in trying to ascertain what was and wasn't available, the wait staffs' eyes rolling around their heads and a whimper of "I'll have to check with the kitchen" uttered in complete helplessness, then ordering something and hoping desperately they'd got it right made for a less-than-relaxing experience.

But the upsides were legion, as well. One of the big reasons for Dave's dive into sourdough—yes, it predated the nation's "discovery" of this ancient technique during COVID, particularly by middle-aged white men—was because reading paragraph-long bread labels on shopping trips was taking way too long and the "may have been produced in a facility using dairy" descriptions felt too risky. I could also list benefits like discovering the infinite and delicious permutations of olive oil cakes, and the concomitant escalation in our use of (organic) olive oil, or, to get back to the point of this post, the discovery of fresh sorbets that were like the creamier, less icy Italian versions our Cuisinart ice cream maker produces.

With local fruit season just beginning to burst onto the scene, you can count on several berry and stone fruit sorbets appearing as luscious cappers to backyard soirées here at Good Stuff NW. For instance, this strawberry version is easy, taking less than an hour to pop into freezer and then three or four hours to freeze.

Don't have an ice cream maker in your kitchen inventory? No problem! Read to the last part of the recipe below and check out how my friend Mary Bartlett made the incredible sorbet pictured on the left using just a whisk and her freezer.

Fresh Strawberry Sorbet

2 pints fresh strawberries
1 1/4 cups simple syrup (equal parts sugar and water, warmed and stirred until sugar is completely dissolved)
2 Tbsp. fresh-squeezed orange juice or a teaspoon or two of triple sec or Cointreau (optional)

Cool the simple syrup in the refrigerator.

Put the rinsed, stemmed and halved strawberries into a food processor or blender with a quarter cup of the simple syrup and blend until smooth.  Pour the mixture into a larger bowl. Mix in the rest of the simple syrup (or to taste). Mix in the orange juice or booze, if using. Pour into an ice cream/sorbet machine and follow manufacturer’s directions. Freeze for a few hours before serving.

No ice cream machine? No problem! My friend Mary Bartlett said: "Follow the instructions, make the base and put it in a bowl that will go into the freezer. Place the bowl in the freezer. After one hour, using a whisk, stir the mixture. (Pro tip: Keeping the whisk in the freezer between stirrings will help speed the process along.) Repeat this hourly for about 4 to 6 hours.

Photo of blue bowl and hydrangeas by Denise della Santina. Photo of sorbet in china cups by Mary Bartlett.

The appearance of Hood strawberries marks the official beginning of summer in Oregon. While other strawberries may appear sooner, it's the Hoods that people await with bated breath, pestering farmers and greengrocers with the question of, "When???"

And no other strawberry will do for a true Oregon strawberry jam, according to devotées. The section on Hood strawberries at a website dedicated to these signature gems notes that Hoods are only available in a short window of two to three weeks at the very beginning of strawberry season.

Fans will nod in agreement upon reading that Hoods are known for their high sugar content and deep red color throughout and, when ripe, they are much softer in texture than other varieties. And, as anyone who has bought a flat of Hoods and put off using them until the next day knows, the description solemnly notes that they "need to be eaten fresh or used in jams or baking within hours of being picked."

Discovering a flat of mushy brown berries the next day is, as the Mavericks sang in 1994, a crying shame.

Hoods were officially released to fruit growers and the nursery industry on April 16, 1965, a cross between a cultivar called "US-Oreg 2315" and Puget Beauty. It was grown and selected by legendary plant breeder George F. Waldo, who was said to have transformed Oregon's berry industry with the introduction of the Hood strawberry as well as the Marionberry.

When I brought home two pints of freshly picked Hoods from Greenville Farms at the Hollywood Farmers Market, Dave, prescient as always, immediately claimed them for a batch of his justly famous strawberry sorbet. The bar for summer has been set!

Strawberry Sorbet

Adapted from Sheila Lukins

2 pints fresh strawberries
1 1/4 c. simple syrup (recipe below)
2 Tbsp. orange juice

To make the simple syrup, in a medium saucepan combine two cups each of water and granulated sugar. Heat until just boiling, stirring occasionally. Cool.

Purée the strawberries with 1/4 cup of the simple syrup in a food processor until smooth. While the seeds of the Hood strawberry are quite small and fine to use at this point, if using other berries you may want to strain the pulp through a fine mesh sieve to get a smoother purée.

Stir in the remaining syrup and the orange juice. Transfer to an ice cream machine and freeze according to the manufacturer's instructions.

I've said before that we don't go out to eat very much, preferring instead to cook here at home. For one thing, since Dave developed a lactose intolerance, eating out means barraging our poor server with a constant stream of "Is there butter or fresh cheese in that?" with inevitable trips to the kitchen for said server to inquire whether, for instance, the bagels have milk in them. (Lots do.)

We're also asked well-meaning questions, such as "Is mayo okay?" I've been puzzling about this one, since mayonnaise is just eggs, oil, vinegar (or lemon) and salt, but maybe people remember the old food pyramid where eggs and dairy were lumped in together.

But I digress.

When we do manage a meal away from home and get past the quiz show portion of the evening—"Bob, tell our contestants what they've won!"—there are often discoveries of new ingredients and nuances of preparation we can take home to experiment with. The other evening at Xico, for instance, the meal ended with a spectacular tangerine sorbet that was so fresh and bright it was like biting into a just-peeled wedge of citrus.

It was the perfect thing to bring home since, not only was it dairy-free, it was stunningly simple and delicious. With ice cream an obvious no-go in our dessert repertoire, Dave has become somewhat of a sorbet savant with his trusty Cuisinart ice cream maker, concocting variations on sorbets from berries, peaches and other seasonal delights. (Recipes here.)

A bit of paging through my collection of Mexican cookbooks and a scan through online recipes gave us a good base to start from, particularly David Lebovitz's version, though we eschewed his suggested addition of corn syrup sweetener.

Result? A fresh, bright sorbet we can make here at home that doesn't beg any questions!

Tangerine Sorbet

4 c. freshly squeezed tangerine juice
1 c. (200g) sugar
Zest of two tangerines
2 tsp. orange liqueur, such as triple sec, Cointreau or Grand Marnier

Mix 1 cup of the juice with the sugar and heat, stirring occasionally until the sugar is completely dissolved. Remove from heat and pour the mixture back into the reserved tangerine juice. Add the zest and the orange liqueur.

Chill the mixture thoroughly (Lebovitz says at least 8 hours or overnight but I put it in the freezer for 45 minutes, then the refrigerator for 4 hours or so). Churn the tangerine sorbet mixture in an ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions.